Special Forces: At the beginning, An Ran pulled him to get his certificate.

Chapter 1540 The Yan Kingdom Soldiers Have Arrived

As dawn broke in the east, a layer of bluish-gray light appeared on the horizon.

The earth was still shrouded in morning mist, but the outlines of distant mountains were already visible. Sunlight filtered through gaps in the clouds, casting a thin golden hue over the ground. Scattered across the square were early risers taking a stroll; some stretched, some walked their dogs, and some carried their freshly bought breakfast home.

A roaring sound came from afar.

At first, it was very faint, like muffled thunder. People looked up at the sky, thinking that the weather was changing. But the sound grew closer and louder, and finally, three black dots appeared on the horizon, piercing through the clouds and flying towards them.

"Helicopter?"

Some people stopped and looked up.

Three helicopters drew closer, the sound of their rotors churning the air deafening. People in the square quickly stepped back, making way for them. The helicopters descended slowly, the air currents kicking up dust and fallen leaves, making it hard to open one's eyes.

The hatch opened.

A group of more than twenty people emerged from the cabin, their steps synchronized, their expressions cold. They wore identical uniforms, their faces expressionless, their gazes sweeping across the surroundings with a sharp, piercing intensity. The surrounding crowd involuntarily took a few steps back, some gasping in shock.

"Is...is someone from Yan?"

"They look like soldiers..."

"Soldiers from Yan Country? What are they doing here?"

Whispers arose from the crowd. Someone lowered their voice and said, "Things haven't been peaceful here lately. Chinese people are being targeted a lot. These soldiers... are they here to pick someone up?"

"But what use are only twenty-odd people?"

"Exactly, it's so chaotic here, what can twenty people do?"

"Look at their eyes, they don't seem like ordinary people."

"Even the best can only manage twenty-odd people. With so many people here, what good can they do?"

A murmur of discussion arose; some shook their heads, some sighed, and some continued to stare at the soldiers. The helicopter rotors slowly stopped spinning, and the roar gradually subsided. More than twenty soldiers stood in formation, with Chen Jun at the very front, his gaze sweeping over the surroundings. Many locals from Indonesia stood at the edge of the square; some watched the spectacle, some remained expressionless, and some had something indescribable in their eyes.

Chen Jun's lips curled up slightly, revealing a cold smile.

“Leave four people here to handle liaison and support,” he said, his voice low but each word clear and forceful. “The other eight, in groups of four, will search in smaller groups to find our compatriots and provide them with assistance. Remember, no matter what happens, protect your compatriots and bring them back safely.”

"Yes!"

The crowd responded and quickly split into small groups, dispersing in different directions. Footsteps echoed across the square, soon disappearing into the morning light.

Chen Jun stood still, looking at the local Indonesians around him. Their gazes fell on the soldiers, filled with curiosity, apprehension, and something else entirely. Chen Jun's smile grew colder as he turned and walked in another direction.

Old Fan quickly caught up.

"Boss, where are we going?"

Chen Jun didn't turn around, his steps unwavering: "Go directly to the place where the overseas Chinese gather."

Old Fan was taken aback: "Just the two of us?"

"Ah."

“But…” Old Fan opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but seeing Chen Jun’s back, he swallowed his words. He followed silently behind, his footsteps making a rustling sound on the road.

The two walked along the street. The surrounding buildings grew increasingly dilapidated, the walls covered in graffiti, and some windows were broken and unrepaired. A strange, unpleasant stench hung in the air, like garbage piled up for too long without being cleaned, or something else entirely. There weren't many people on the street; the few who did pass by would avert their eyes upon seeing them and quicken their pace.

Old Fan couldn't help but ask, "Boss, there are only two of us. What if something happens..."

Chen Jun didn't say anything and continued walking forward.

Old Fan glanced around and lowered his voice: "It's so chaotic here right now, we..."

"Are you scared?" Chen Jun suddenly asked.

Old Fan puffed out his chest: "What's there to be afraid of? It's just that we don't have enough manpower. What if we run into a large group..."

Chen Jun didn't say anything more.

After walking for about half an hour, Chen Jun stopped. Old Fan followed his gaze and his heart sank.

In front of us was a Chinese community.

The shop signs on both sides of the street are written in Chinese characters—Fulai Grocery Store, Wangji Snacks, Linji Cloth Shop—but those signs are crooked, some have been smashed and only half of the wooden stick remains, and some have been burned and only the charred wooden frame remains.

Almost none of the shop's doors and windows were intact; shattered glass littered the floor, gleaming blindingly in the sunlight. Shelves were overturned, goods scattered everywhere, some trampled, some burned, blackened beyond recognition.

The garbage was piled up on the street corner, flies buzzed around, and the stench in the air was even stronger.

Lao Fan's throat tightened.

He remembered stories from his childhood, told by elders, about incidents targeting Chinese people that occurred here many years ago. Many people died; blood flowed like rivers. Later, Yan became powerful, and such incidents rarely happened, at least not so blatantly. But now—

Chen Jun's gaze fell on the ground.

Dark red stains stretched from the street to the shop entrance, not yet completely dry. Next to them lay a shoe, a child's shoe, dirty and forlorn.

Shouts came from not far away.

"Help... help..."

The voice was thin and weak, as if squeezed from a throat, or as if afraid of being heard, kept very low, yet one could hear the despair within it. Chen Jun turned his head sharply, his gaze fixed on the direction from which the voice came—around the corner ahead, at a small alley.

He was about to take a step when several uniformed men stood at the alley entrance. Indonesian police. They just stood there, smoking, looking into the alley, then turned and walked away without looking back, as if they hadn't seen anything.

Old Fan gritted his teeth and said, "After we stationed troops in South Vietnam, it was obvious that the United States instigated Indonesia to target us Chinese."

Chen Jun didn't speak, staring at the alley.

Old Fan continued, "What can we do? We don't have enough manpower, and the warships haven't arrived yet—"

Before he finished speaking, Chen Jun had already sprinted away.

"Boss!" Old Fan didn't have time to think and took off chasing after him.

Chen Jun ran so fast that his boots slammed against the ground with a dull thud. Old Fan struggled to keep up, and the two rushed into the alley one after the other. The sunlight was blocked by the walls on both sides, dimming the light, and a damp, musty smell filled the air.

A sound came from deep within the alley.

"Sister, will the People's Liberation Army come to pick us up? I'm scared..."

It was a little boy's voice, childish, trembling, and choked with sobs; every word was trembling.

“They’ll definitely come.” Another voice rang out, a girl’s voice trembling, but she tried to remain calm. “They’ll definitely come, they will definitely come.”

"Haha, they're not coming!"

A rough laugh, thick with local accent, rang out and echoed through the alley.

Old Fan's heart nearly stopped. He saw a girl of about fourteen or fifteen years old standing in the alley ahead, leaning against the wall, tightly gripping a kitchen knife in her hand. The blade faced outwards, gleaming coldly in the dim light. Her hands were trembling, yet she held on tightly, refusing to let go.

Behind her was a little boy, no more than four or five years old, trembling all over, clutching his sister's clothes tightly, his face pale, his eyes filled with fear.

Two men stood before them, wearing floral shirts with rolled-up sleeves and disgusting smiles on their faces. Their eyes scanned the girl from head to toe without any attempt to hide it.

"Put down the cleaver and come with us," one of them said in a slick voice. "I can spare your brother."

The girl's knife trembled even more violently, the blade shaking and reflecting tiny fragments of light. Her voice trembled as she asked, "Really?"

“Of course it’s true.” The other man smiled even more smugly and took a step forward. “We keep our word. If you come with us, your brother will be safe.”

The girl hesitated.

She glanced at her younger brother behind her. The little boy looked up at her, his eyes filled with fear and dependence, his small hands clutching her clothes tightly as if grasping at the last straw.

She glanced at the two people in front of her again. They were laughing, laughing smugly, like cats watching mice.

She was so small and so scared, yet she still tried her best to protect her younger brother. She naively believed that as long as she obeyed, her brother would be safe.

She slowly put down the kitchen knife.

The knife tilted, the blade leaving her hand and slowly falling. With a clang, the cleaver hit the ground, its sound particularly jarring in the quiet alley.

The two men immediately pounced on them.

One man grabbed the girl and twisted her hands behind her back. Another man held down the little boy, pinning him to the ground. The girl struggled desperately, cursing, but it was no use; her hands were firmly held, and she couldn't move. The little boy, pressed to the ground with his face buried in the earth, cried out, "Sister! Sister!"

"Let me go! You're lying to me! You're lying to me!" The girl struggled frantically, tears streaming down her face, her voice hoarse. "You said you'd let him go! You said you would!"

The two men holding inkpads burst into laughter.

"Silly girl, do you think we'll let your brother go?"

"I'm taking both of them, hahahaha..."

Laughter echoed through the alley.

The girl was still struggling, but she couldn't break free from those hands. The little boy's cries grew weaker and weaker, as if he had cried himself to exhaustion, or as if he had been terrified, and only sobs remained.

At that very moment, the sunlight at the entrance of the alley was suddenly blocked.

A tall figure appeared there, backlit, his face obscured, only a silent silhouette visible. He stood there, blocking the entire alleyway's exit, like a wall.

The laughter stopped abruptly.